Friday, 21 November 2008

Life, love and leaving

Listening to: Gram Parsons anthology

Dialect word of the day: Swally (alcoholic drink)

A fairly pleasant day today, one that makes me wish I'd spent my time 'inflation reducing' more productively and also makes me vaguely threatened by the prospect of starting work. I met Jess and her sister in Monster Mash before wandering over to the Library and spending the afternoon and much of the evening reading late Victorian newspaper articles. I feel I may have been over-immersed myself in Ripper research of late, upon leaving the library today I addressed a fellow reader as 'guv'nor' in a appalling Dick Van Dyke-esque accent. I was mildly surprised I didn't preface the remark with 'Cor Blimey' or 'Stone the bleedin crows.'

This week I've also found time to visit Carlton Hill, albeit in slightly unusual circumstances. After two and a bit years together, me and Jess decided that last Sunday would be an excellent time for our first row. We achieved this with consummate ease and in a fit of pique I flounced out of the flat. Being a rank amateur at the rowing and flouncing lark I soon realised that I had made a crucial error I had nowhere to flounce off too, not knowing anyone in Edinburgh well enough to inflict a few hours of low level pseudo-angst on them. So I was left standing on Easter Road feeling a bit pathetic. I soon realised that:

1. In the middle of a Scottish winter it is probably not a good idea to storm outside without first donning a scarf

2. or a hat

3. or gloves.

4. or money so you can sulk in a pub or cafe.

So despite these privations, I stuck it out and wandered off to Carlton Hill for a bit of a mooch and mope. Despite my black mood, I couldn't help but be overawed by the view from the top of the hill and the bleak beauty of the monuments, especially the half completed National Monument. It was an attempt to build a replica of the Parthenon in honour of the Scottish troops who'd died in the Napoleonic Wars even though they ran out of money after only 12 columns it's still a hugely imposing spectacle and I rather like it for being such an epic failure.

Having stuck it out for an hour and a half I rather pompously decided that I'd probably made my point and deigned returned to the flat, to find that Jess had fallen asleep and had no idea I'd even left the lounge ! Thankfully this took the wind out of my sales and We both found the whole scenario utterly absurd and had a good chortle about it. Especially when she revealed that Carlton Hill was a well known dogging hotspot.

Although can one go dogging on foot? Now there's a question to ponder!

1 comment:

I recall many moments of flounce in Edinburgh, albeit with cringes of mortification. I'm impressed that you didn't know about the dogging in Calton Hill. In my time (so muttered the aged crone), the Calton Burial grounds were suitably notorious as a cruising spot. I was shocked. Really, I was.

You should always have your flouncing kit by the front door. It was saved me from many a truculent trudge back.

A crazy maverick kid from the wrong side of the tracks (the West Midlands) Unable to hack the hidebound world of University libraries, he struck out for the bright lights of Edinburgh with legions of jealous husbands and angry creditors hot on his heels.
Stay tuned to see if our hero manages to make a new life for himself on the mean streets of the Athens of the North, copes with the winters or manages to watch Rab C. Nesbit without ceefax on...
All his has to do now is find a job.